Dancing Man
by Shadow of ZAFT
Summary: It was confusing. But it affirmed his belief. Movement – no dancing – was the foundation of life." Mike and Kurt and how they dance towards and away from each other, and finally, together.
1. Dancing Through Life

_Totally Unbetad as usual. This is hopefully the start of something interesting. Taken from an idea after listening to my Wicked soundtrack on repeat. Also, pardon my history major's joke at failed presidents. Finally, I want to make it clear I don't condone some of the language I used in this piece, one word in particular. But as boy who was called that enough, I know the effect it can have. Especially when it's true._

_Title from **Dancing Through Life** from **Wicked.**_

_

* * *

  
_

_Dancing through life,__  
__Skimming the surface,__  
__Gliding where turf is smooth…_

It was always about movement for him.

Movement was life. Everything living moved. It had a beat, a strut, a motion that it fell into and kept. His father walked slowly, purposefully. Everything was measured and metered and in control. His mother was different. Fast and energetic, almost haphazard in her tempo. Yet she always looked graceful and composed. It was interesting to watch them as they danced around each other. Partners completely mismatched in tone, but paired perfectly in stride.

It was confusing. But it affirmed his belief. Movement – no _dancing _– was the foundation of life.

Mike Chang was certain of it.

His parents were slightly concerned when he asked for lessons. Dance was not the activity of a boy after all. But Mike persisted. He begged and pleaded. And they relented. All a parent ever wants is for their child to be happy and healthy. So Mike started dance classes. Ballet. Ballroom. Hip-hop. He took whatever he could.

Anything.

Everything.

And he felt alive.

Youth passed quickly. As did his old life in town. He moved, leaving behind the ages of innocence and ignorance and Chicago to arrive in Lima. Mike came to Chester A. Arthur Middle School. He was excited. New friends, new people. A new dance. He was ready. He was so proud when he introduced himself.

"I'm Mike Chang and I dance."

And then that innocence shattered.

This was Lima. Things were black and white. And dance was for girls and fags. Like Hummel. Two things clicked for Mike that day. That dancing was not appreciated or accepted here. And that he did not want to be like this Hummel boy – whoever he was.

Peer pressure was strong. The haunting words followed him for the first weeks and months. And Mike bent to the winds, getting swept up in other physical activities that did not get him pushed into lockers. Besides, movement was movement. Each act was a dance. A dance around a point guard to the basket. A dance around a tackle. A dance around the bases. A dance though classes. A dance at not being different.

It was all movement. It was all alive. And really, that was all that mattered. That's what he told himself at least.

_Woes are fleeting,__  
_

_Blows are glancing,_

_____When you're dancing__through life..._

With his new stance as the normal kid, he slid into a life in the shadows. A backup dancer. Always moving, but never really being seen. And it was ok. At least he was using his locker and not being shoved into it.

Oh he still danced. But it began to take on a style and form of its own as he danced on his own. It was singular. It was Mike's style. Nothing classical, though the steps showed up sometimes. Nothing modern either, though the bends and pops and locks appeared. His little sisters liked it. They would giggle and bounce around whenever he would practice.

Or burst spontaneously into a dance. That was his favorite. When the music is all around and the mood is just right and you can't help but start to move. Surprise dancing.

Surprancing.

You just had to be careful where and when it happened.

Mike made a close friend in Lima quickly: Matt Rutherford. They were both in the background. People just assumed they would show up and go along. And Mike and Matt were ok with that. Sometimes. Other times, they shirked out of whatever was going on. Disappeared when the football players picked on someone. Escaped when the pint-sized eighth grade pseudo-jocks shoved someone into a locker or a garbage can or a toilet. It was a day like that, a day where they escaped, that Mike knew Matt was his best friend.

The music was blaring in his house. And Matt was still a few minutes away on his bike. So Mike burst into dance. Leaping and flying, popping and locking, starting and stopping all over the living room. He moved from couch cushion to coffee table, balancing between the two and moving to the deep hip-hop bass he found on the radio. He ignored everything around him, including the stunned look on his friends face. He only noticed when the song ended and he stood, panting with a look of surprise on his face.

He thought he'd missed a step and was doomed to looking out of lockers.

"What was that?" Matt asked, his eyes wide.

"Dancing," Mike replied, shrugging a shoulder as if it was nothing. His friend just stared for a moment, making the dancer tense even more.

"That was awesome!" he cried, a huge grin splitting his face. He tried to imitate one of Mike fluid moves, making a jerky attempt at best. He looked up and grinned again. "Can you teach me?"

And suddenly Mike was not dancing alone.

_The strange thing:__  
__Your life could end up changing__  
__While you're dancing __through!_

High school came next. Another new set of buildings named after a failed president. A larger group of people and positions. A new, more complicated dance. But Mike pressed on, moving in and moving on. He flowed now, more effortlessly than ever and always in the background. A steady beating pulse with Matt by his side.

It was uneventful. There were Cheerios to flirt with and football plays to memorize and classes to keep up with and dancing to be done when no one was looking. It was like before, but with more necessity to prove yourself macho. Mike avoided that. He laughed it off. He was the goof, carving out a place that was beyond macho, different from the others.

Which was good. The insults were wearing on him. He had lots of friends back in Chicago who were different. How could he explain that to the other football players? There was no way. So he dealt with it by avoiding it. Under the radar. Around the bend. Always dancing away from the issue.

He was good at dancing after all.

He avoided the dumpster throwing. The lawn chair nailing. The pee balloons were just awful. He avoided it all. He was the goof. Too friendly to be involved in that kind of stuff. So the left him out of it. He didn't mind. It was refreshing to have time to himself. Even if Matt sometimes went with them.

That was when Mike really felt alone. When he was by himself and dancing alone. And thinking. Always thinking. And wondering. Why was everything so divided? When did it become so complicated? When did he become so…well…_different_? He missed the signs of change because he was thinking. Finn and Glee and music and the steady beat of something new.

And then Kurt Hummel joined the football team.

And the rhythm was thrown off and a new tempo took its place. And for the first time, Mike found himself scrambling for dance steps.


	2. Dancing Queen

_After some rather impressive outpouring here and at my comms, I decided to go ahead and finish the second chapter here. I hope everyone is enjoying this so far._

_I'd personally like to thank the reviewers so far. Thank you!_

~Shadow

* * *

_You're a teaser, you turn 'em on,_

_Leave them burning and then you're gone._

_Looking out for another, anyone will do…_

"What was he even doing there?" Puckerman yelled as they left the lockers, and their new kicker, behind. "This is stupid!" The murmurs of agreement rippled through the assembled football players. Finn rallied to Hummel's defense, yelling about scoring and winning and some such. Matt rolled his eyes and looked bored at yet another shouting match between Puck and Finn, football versus Glee.

But Mike was lost in thought, tuning it all out. He'd heard it all before. The same insults that made his stomach tighten. The same freedom that he really wanted. It was invigorating to watch Kurt dancing. No inhibitions. No reservations. And he moved like it was something he'd been doing forever.

Another dancer. With steps so different from his own. Mike frowned and pulled his bag off the floor. Was that what was throwing off his tempo?

"Earth to Mike! Ya in there man?" Matt asked, confusion lacing his voice. He had hung back, the rest of the players walking down the hall, following the sounds of the old argument. Mike just blinked and smiled distractedly.

"Yeah yeah. Just thinking about what all I have to get done," he lied, and shrugged. "Better way than listening to the bickering couple." He motioned with his head and shot a wry grin towards Matt. The other laughed and shook his head.

"I hear ya. The team's heading out for pizza though. You in?" his best friend asked. Mike shook his head and grinned.

"Can't man. Calculus burning a hole in my head," Mike replied. Matt groaned as they turned to walk towards their cars, moving in sync. It was their own dance. Mike's fluid moves and Matt's high-energy bounce and strut. Calm and collected and energetic. "We still working out tomorrow morning or is it a late night?" He asked, stepping outside and pausing in the evening sunshine. Matt just grinned.

"You know I gotta work out. I can't keep up with your dancer's abs!" he replied with a laugh. Mike just grinned and waved and headed towards his car.

_With a bit of rock music, everything is fine,_

_You're in the mood for a dance._

_And when you get that chance…_

Home was as it always was. His littlest sister and younger brother were playing in the yard as he pulled into the drive, bikes and balls and bats scattered across the brown crinkly grass. They yelled and waved as he made his way inside, too caught up in being kids to stop.

Which was good. Being a kid was great. There was no need to grow up too fast, too soon. Things would change enough. Mike smiled and slid into the house, instantly bombarded by the smell of food and the sound of jazz. He smiled.

Having an awesome stay at home dad made things fun.

Oh his father was measured and metered, every inch in control. But he was the emotional heart-beat of the Chang household, something that surprised his friends when they came to visit. Mr. Chang traded stocks from home. And that left him plenty of time to perfect his two great passions: cooking and pretending he was a longue singer in the 50s. Mike had learned from an early age that fedoras were cool and Frank Sinatra was the only true singer.

To which his mother would roll her eyes and heave an exasperated sigh. Mrs. Chang was as she ever was: hyper and effervescent in a business sense. She was the reason the family was in Lima. Her law firm sent her there to represent farmers. A huge promotion, a raise, a new home. It was too good to pass up. Even if it took her away from her beloved jazz music and White Sox.

He gave a nod to his father and disappeared upstairs, heading for his room. It was true that he had Calc homework. And an English essay that really should get written. But his mind was jumbled and his tempo was off. And then it clicked.

For all he'd heard of this Kurt Hummel, that was probably the first time he'd actually _looked_ at the kid.

He'd seen him around. At the mall – or what passed for one here – or in the halls at either Arthur Middle or McKinley High. He always had this proud, pissed off look on his face. And his clothes were usually pristine. Unless he'd had a run in with Puckerman. But that look never vanished. And that's everything he knew about Kurt Hummel, discounting the rumors and snickers the football players talked about.

Mike blinked and tossed his bag on his bed. He had no idea how the other boy moved though. Now that was odd. Mike liked to think he knew how everyone moved. Finn moved like he was still figuring out how to walk. Puck strutted like he owned the place, but his quick steps belied his nervousness. Heck, even Matt moved with a pace of someone unsure about where he was walking to. And the Cheerios moved as a pack, all strut and no substance. Well…most of them anyway. Santana and Quinn moved with aggression, with power. Santana and Brittany moved as if anyone didn't already know the two were sharing a bed. And Brittany...

Brittany just moved.

She was another dancer. She was a friend. And, consequently was probably somewhere getting fed by his father or pilfering something from his sister's room.

"Mikkkkke," came a whine from outside his door, "I'm carrying too much. I can't open the door."

"It's not closed Brittany," he said with a grin, pulling the propped open door wide. She just looked at him and blinked.

"But I didn't have a hand to push it open. Silly," she berated, smiling before holding out one of the glasses of juice. Mike shook his head, sometimes just not really understanding how she waltzed through life and took the offered glass. "Why are you pouting?" she asked as she slipped into the room and instantly flopped into the giant squish chair in the corner of his room.

Mike blinked as she stared at him.

"I'm not moping," he replied. Brittany just blinked.

"You look like Santana when she's confused and wants something," the blonde replied, looking at him curiously. "She pouts. You're pouting. What's wrong?" She sips her juice and looks at him, clearly not about to let the subject drop. Mike just groans and drops onto his bed. She's far too perceptive some times.

"Just confused I guess. Kurt Hummel tried out for the football team this week…" he replied.

"Oh I knew that. I'm the one that made him…accidentally. He's still kinda mad…" she says brightly, interrupting his train of thought. "And won't do my hair." She sips her juice for a moment before brightening. "So why are you confused by that?"

"Cause he danced today for the football team? Something Mr. Schu and Coach said about loosening up…" Mike shrugged. He personally agreed. The team was too tense, too caught up in their own dance of machismo and status in the school to win. He snorted. "I just don't think Beyoncé is the best way to get them to do it." He took a long slow sip from his glass.

"Kurt is a really good dancer," Brittany supplied with a happy smile. "And he's great at the Single Lady's dance. His butt looks great when he does it." Mike choked on what he was drinking and the blonde looked concerned, coming over to pat him on the back.

He didn't want to admit that she was right. That was a possibility far too startling to be handled before Calc. But he knew he'd come back and think on it. He'd paid a bit too much attention to that aspect of the dance today. He took a deep breath and groaned.

Damn her perception.

_Friday night and the lights are low,_

___Looking out for the place to go,_

_Where they play the right music…_

They won a damn football game. McKinley High won a game. Mike half expected the world to end when the entire squad danced on field. He thought the world would end when they scored the touchdown. He thought everything was going to fall apart when they actually _won_. It was amazing. It was incredible.

And it was all because of Hummel.

He was too caught up in the celebration to thank the kicker personally. So he waited in the parking lot, perched on top of his car watching the doors to the locker room. Hummel took the longest, left the latest. He supposed it made sense. These were the guys that tormented him for years. Not exactly the kind of people you wanted to be naked around.

Mike groaned and kicked himself mentally. Mental images of naked Kurt were already leaping into mind. Not the best thing to see when trying to convince yourself that this was not a crush. Not something that completely changed the routine he was in.

Squeaky hinges broke him from his thoughts – and unbidden images of naughty things in dirty shower cubicles – and showed him the person he'd been waiting on. Hummel was immaculately dressed and styled, from hair to shoes. You would think he hadn't just played a football game.

And then Mike got to watch him move.

It was fluid. Dancer's movements were evident in every step and motion. There was a grace that seemed effortless and a pride that was overwhelming. But what shocked him the most was the fear that lurked in those steps and the loneliness that permeated his stance. He was a diva as much as Mike was a background dancer.

Because that was how they kept themselves safe.

Mike stayed where he was, just watching. He was out of the way, off in the corner of the lot and acting a bit like a creeper. But he really did not want to spoil the moment. It was nice to watch someone move uninterrupted. And even though Mike could see shields and defenses wrapped around the other boy, he knew he was seeing a bit of Kurt, not Hummel, but Kurt: the boy behind the mask and the designer sneer.

And he wanted to know more.

Wow that was scary.

_Getting in the swing,_

_You come to look for a king._

_Anybody could be that guy__…_

It was with that mindset Mike walked into Glee the next Monday along with Matt and Puck. He had no idea why Puck was there. But he and Matt had talked over the weekend. Dancing was fun. And really, where else could they get away with dancing all the time?

"And Santana and Brittany are there. And they're hot," Matt said enthusiastically. Mike said nothing.

He'd never thought of himself as gay. Or straight for that matter. He was Mike. Anything else just complicated things. He'd never dated anyone seriously, though the entire city of Lima though he and Brittany were star-crossed lovers. He'd never really looked at anyone like that. Well…ok maybe once or twice. But what did it matter?

It really confused him, boxes and labels. If he could be a dancing jock, why did he have to be straight or gay? He was Mike.

That was far more entertaining.

He found Glee to be amazingly relaxing. Not only was it fun to dance and let loose and sing, but no one looked at him weirdly for doing a little jig or enjoying himself. It was fine to be who he wanted to be here. It was expected.

The Invitational Mr. Schu organized to help the group work in tandem came quickly. He was surprised to see how often he and Kurt wound up near each other, playing two parts of the balance in the group against Puck and Finn's size and Matt and Artie's movement speed. It was as though Mr. Schu saw the dancer in both of them.

It was an interesting concept, but it meant he got to be around the other boy more. And that was rewarding in itself.

He was elated when he walked off the stage after the Invitational. They had a huge ovation, cheers and thrills and the audience loved them. For once, they felt like this was something that could actually happen. Even if Rachel was still being one giant diva. He jumped off the last few steps down to the choir room and grinned happily.

"Who would have thought to see you so happy over Glee," a prim voice quipped. Mike just laughed it off.

"Who wouldn't be happy after having crowds cheering for them so often?" he asked, grinning over at Kurt who stopped looking at his nails long enough to meet his eyes. Mike gulped down a bit of air unknowingly and watched the other boy for a moment. "Ya know…I never got to thank you. For the football stuff I mean. That was pretty cool."

"It's nothing. I was always limber. The team just needed to loosen up," the other boy replied. He paused and looked at Mike with a hint of apprehension. "Though you dance pretty well for a jock." He turned and walked to meet Mercedes as she came into the room. Mike blinked.

Had he just been complimented by the Tiny Dancer? He snorted. Tiny Dancer. So going on his iPod when he got home. He watched the two friends for a bit, feeling the nervous tension that had built back up while he had talked with Kurt subside. He groaned.

Not good.

Mike dropped into a chair and put his head in his hands. Things were escalating, running out of control. He had no idea when this tempo had changed, growing faster and stronger and oh so much louder. But he heard it, felt it, knew it clearly now. He looked up at the sound of humming to see Brittany standing there, rocking on the balls of her feet and watching Kurt and Mercedes talk, all the while humming some song.

"Mike, how old are you?" Brittany asked suddenly, stopping her humming. Mike raised an eyebrow warily.

"Why?" he asked. She looked at him with an exasperated sigh.

"Because I need it for the song. It says you're only seventeen. But I don't know if you really are. So how old?" she asks, looking at him as if this all makes sense. Mike flushes lightly, recognizing the lyrics.

"Brittany, I am _not_ a Dancing queen!" he snapped and she just smiled.

Though he was definitely falling for one.


	3. You Make Me Feel Like Dancin'

_Here we go with chapter three. I would like to first say sorry for the wait. It's been a hectic few weeks here at university. I would also like to extend a massive thank you for the amazing support and reviews and favorites you have all given me. I'm glad you're all enjoying it!_

_~Shadow_

* * *

_You've got a cute way of talking,_

_You've got the better of me._

_Just snap your fingers and I'm walking,_

_Like a dog hanging on your leash…_

Drama and showchoir. They go rather well together. Which is good. Because New Directions certainly keeps Mike on his toes with the new and sorted details of public and private scandals. It really started right after the Invitational. Tired Finn, Mrs. Schuster with some kind of pill, and crazy emotional and amazing dancing.

Mike had readily thrown himself further into the dancing than he had too. It was exhilarating. He'd just kind of thrown himself into it, letting himself get out of his reserved space during rehearsals. Matt had just smirked and nodded, knowing his friend had been itching to get that out since he joined the club. And the shocked looks on Finn and Puck's faces had been priceless.

But it was the appraising gleam in the eyes of one Kurt Hummel that made Mike really happy. And slightly bouncy.

Or perhaps that was just the pseudoephedrine. Yeah…that was believable.

The flutter he kept getting in his stomach. That was undeniable however. He had no problems what so ever when he and Kurt were dancing next to each other during the mash-up. He had no problems with the small glimmers of approval he got from the other boy.

After the whole fiasco with the "vitamins" from Mrs. Schuster and the contest ruled null for use of stimulant – something Puckerman seemed most annoyed by, giving some longwinded rant that involved Hugh Heffner, Viagra, and himself in some weird analogy that would have stumped anyone – Mike found himself alone in the choir room, dancing and spinning again to try and center himself, as odd as that sounded. He blinked owlishly as he came to a stop, facing the door and a curious looking Kurt.

"So it wasn't just pills…" the other boy murmured. Mike bristled a bit, frowning.

"No way dude. Dancing is what I do," he snapped, agitation evident in his face for a moment. Passions were personal. And he wasn't going to let Kurt diminish that for a second.

"No need to get defensive," Kurt sniffed, lifting his chin defiantly. "I've just never seen you dance like that before." His face was schooled in his trademark defiant glare, but his stance held a bit of curiosity. Mike just beamed at him, forgetting his earlier aggravation.

"Maybe you just never noticed before," he replied, turning and grabbing his bag. He heard the click of expensive shoes and knew Kurt was already heading for the lockers and football. He smiled to himself.

The moves sounded a little out of sync. Maybe that was a good thing?

Mike was practically floating after that. He had no problem with the knowing smile and the laughter that Brittany threw his way that night. It even made the news that Coach "I'm-better-friends-with-my-bullhorn" Sylvester was the new Glee Club co-advisor almost tolerable.

Almost being the key word.

It was still Sylvester. It was still different. Glee fundamentally changed when she was there. There was a tenseness in everyone's shoulders – with the exception of the Cheerios of course – that made the environment so different. And Mr. Schu had slightly panned his idea for pop'n'lock. That left Mike hoping he'd still have the ability to dance so well…so uninhibited that Kurt noticed…

Wait. _Other Asian?!_ What the heck did that mean?

Watching Sue Sylvester pulling out all the students that were somehow different was a little insulting. And frightening. The list was nothing short of a list of horrible stereotypes that made the idealist in him cringe. This was above slightly infuriating. But he was in the group with Kurt. He was getting a chance to do what he did best – Coach Sylvester even called on him to dance.

When he moved to throw out some of his moves, he noticed that spark of curiosity in the eyes of Kurt. And he couldn't help but put a little more flare than usual.

_You put a spell on me_

_Right when you walked into me_

McKinley High apparently exists in an anti-glee bubble. It's the only logical explanation for the sheer insane amount glee destroying activities that seem to appear. As if the meltdown between Schuster and Sylvester wasn't bad enough – and equally terrifying to watch – then Coach Tanaka had to have some feud with Mr. Schu and there was an ultimatum: Football or Glee.

Mike had scowled when Coach had made that call. It forced the idea of labels. Forced the idea of stagnant roles and boxes. A point he had moved past. Or at least had in his mind and wanted to in school, in life. It was annoying to him to see that side coming out again.

He had already made up his mind by the time he'd left practice. He hadn't asked Matt or Puck or Finn. This was about what he wanted. It made things easier when Matt clapped him on the shoulder as they walked out of the locker room.

"So you're going to Glee right?" Matt asked, falling into step next to Mike. That nervous energy was back, thrumming as his best friend walked next to him.

"I was planning on going, yeah," he replied, looking slightly confused. "What about you?"

"I like football…" Matt replied, seeming to search Mike's voice for any direct, any hint. But the dancer just nodded and watched him curiously. Matt sighed. "But Glee. Glee is fun. It's freeing ya know?" He stopped walking and frowned.

"Yeah. I know it is," Mike said, stopping and turning, looking at his best friend with a smile. "That's why I'm not quitting it."

"The guys are gonna be mad ya know…" Matt murmured, a small smile appearing on his face. Mike just laughed, turning back around and gliding down the hall. His steps became lighter and lighter as he moved.

"So let them," Mike called back, a huge smile on his face. "There's more to life than football and high school popularity you know!" He did a small leap, clearing his mind further. He was right. This was right. Glee was right.

And honestly, so was everything that was going on right now. Including that crush.

Wouldn't Brittany be happy.

_You take me higher._

_I'm gonna catch on fire 'cause…_

As sectionals raced towards them, the Glee rehearsals became more and more bizarre. But each one added something new to his understanding of movement, of dance, of freedom. The biggest one was the wheelchairs. For Mike, a man who was used to free and agile movement, it was confining. It was incredibly stilted.

But it definitely gave him a new perception on life.

Mike had hummed along rather easily, enjoying the added fluidity at times and cursing the stilted maneuvering. He spent time talking with Artie, learning how to use and – to some respect – enjoy the chair and its mobility. It was…intriguing. He always thought Artie moved in a way that was shameful, stilted. But he quickly came to realize that it was only stilted because of the way the rooms, the auditorium, the doors were put together. But on stage, in the choir room, he moved in a way that left him in awe of the graceful nature the other boy had.

He could admire it. But he wouldn't envy it. That much grace and fluidity trapped to metal and rubber. It was sad. Artie just smiled when he said that and shook his head.

"At least I still move right?" he said, a bright smile on his face. Mike just blinked and Artie laughed. "Movement's key for you isn't it? I mean…you're always bouncing your foot in Calc, keeping a rhythm." The boy shrugged and wheeled himself towards the exit.

"At least you're still moving…" Mike murmured, following after him. That was the first revelation that came that week.

The second was Kurt and his fear.

The Diva-Off was well liked. Defying Gravity was a good song, powerful and soaring. And both Rachel and Kurt had the ability to make it work for them. So the rest of them sat watching and listening as each sang. Rachel was powerful and thrilling, giving a performance as good as she usually did.

But Kurt…Kurt gave the song such a haunting quality with his soprano, the lyrics holding a different meaning when he sang them. It was…heartbreaking. The desire to move on, move up, move past. And then that high F. Where his voice cracked. Mike felt his eyes widen ever so slightly before narrowing.

He'd blown it.

Kurt was good with his masks. Anger and disappointment shown on his face. But his eyes. They were hardened and determined and full of fear. An odd combination, but not something that was unusual for Kurt. Those designer shields were in full force, and Mike wanted to know why.

He waited after Glee, watching as Mercedes and the other girls consoled him before moving on, Kurt asking for some alone time. And there he was, by himself, with the piano and a karaoke track of the song. And Kurt sang.

It was flawless and soaring, the high F being held perfectly and gracefully by the boy. And the only things marring the performance were a few tears that dropped down his cheek. Mike frowned, closing the door softly behind him and leaning against the frame, watching as the song ended. He swallowed his fear – Angry Kurt stares were best avoided – before he asked quietly.

"Sounds amazing."

Kurt stiffened, turning further away from the door and wiping his tears quickly on a swiftly produced Kleenex. His shoulders stiffened and his hands tightened. The walls were up and the shields were tightened. Mike watched, the tense nature of the other boy was so disquieting.

"What do you want Mike?" Kurt asked, his voice clipped and raw. It took all the joy out of hearing his name for the first time. Mike paused, watching the tense nature. He could be blunt, ask him why he had blow the note. But he had an idea.

"Do you like Glee?" he asked, taking a few careful steps into the room. Kurt whirled and looked at him incredulously. Unbalanced. Good.

"Of course! I've been here longer than you have," he snapped, his eyes narrowed. "And what does this have to do with anything?" He looked about ready to run into a new tirade. But Mike moved on, stepping through to the next move in this dance.

"Because you're stiff," he muttered, toeing off his shoes and taking an experimental flick of his ankle. It was a long time since ballet. "Your movements when we dance, or just when we jam, are so stilted. So concerned with appearances." He arched an eyebrow and met the other boy's eyes when Kurt huffed. He was leaning against the piano, his designer sneer in place and his arms crossed over the sweater he wore.

"Really? And what do you know about moving and dancing? Are you secretly a Cheerio?" he asked, venom lacing his words. Mike just smiled and took a leap, throwing his body forward in classic steps, even a little point work – something he hated – before ending his quick routine. He turned to look back at the other boy and smiled.

"Hardly. But I know dance," he said calmly, walking back towards his shoes, keeping his comfortable gait and calm smile. "And so do you. Which begs the question why you're so stiff, so aloof in Glee." He shook his head and slipped back into his shoes, catching Kurt's eyes again as he picked up his bag. They were wide, shocked, off-balance. "See ya later Kurt."

And he walked out of the room, a smile on his face and a light bounce in his step.

_You really slipped me a potion,_

___I can't get off the floor._

_All this perpetual motion,_

_You gotta give me some more_.

Mike didn't see much of him after that. Not alone at least. They had Glee and classes – though he shared none with the other boy – and time in the halls. It was different. The eyes that he met from time to time were appraising. Confused even. It was a small victory. He was getting noticed. And turning someone's head and making them loose count of their steps and the beat of the music usually was a good thing.

Look what had happened when Hummel did it to him.

Glee was eventful as always. Ballads and fake hair and insane amounts of baby drama. And school photos, class photos, and television advertisements. Jump. On mattresses. It was high energy and exciting. They were bouncing from mattress to mattress, playing off each other's energy and happiness. Or perceived happiness. Whatever. It was fun.

And it was a good distraction from their problems and from the drama that seemed to whirl around Glee.

Mike practically hummed with energy, watching the video of the dance. He smiled. Everyone was moving, bouncing, jumping. Thriving. Even Kurt. The others were getting changed, but he stayed behind, dancing a bit for himself. He was enjoying the limber feeling he had. So much dancing to this new tempo, and everything was well.

"So you just dance constantly now, do you?" came the prim voice of Kurt. Mike just grinned, turning to face the other boy.

"Something like that," he replied, shrugging a shoulder. "But I think I said this before, I've always danced. You just never noticed." Kurt huffed and looked away, a faint blush on his cheeks.

"Yes well. I noticed now," he murmured. Mike blinked owlishly, caught off guard.

"Thanks," the dancer said, smiling brightly. "Nice to see you started loosening up." Kurt smiled at that.

"Well I could hardly let you win that argument," the diva huffed, looking over at Mike with fire in his eyes. "I am a dancer too. And you…" he paused and shrugged, turning around and heading towards the girls who were waiting for him. "You make me feel like dancing sometimes." He jogged over to the girls and Brittany gave Mike a significant glance with a large smile.

Mike stared after him as he walked away, his eyes wide and his mind blank. He was causing someone to dance. That in and of itself was brilliant. But that it was Kurt? That made it even better.

"Trust me Kurt…" he murmured, a smile stretching across his face as he watched the other boy leave the mattress store, "the feeling is more than mutual."


	4. Moondance

_Another chapter up. I apologize for the large time between this chapter and the last. I am in the middle of my exam period, so I have had little free time to devote to my stories. As usual, totally unbetaed. And the song is Moondance by Van Morrison. _

_Thanks to all who have reviewed and favorited. It keeps me working knowing there are readers._

_~Shadow_

* * *

_Well it's a marvelous night for a moondance,_

_With the stars up above in your eyes._

_A fantabulous night to make romance,_

_Neath the cover of October skies._

Football had its ups and downs, excitements and depressions. There was the high of a completed pass, of a touchdown…well…not for McKinley. But that's beside the point. Football had its rollercoaster of emotions.

And it was nothing compared to Sectionals with Glee.

Cheating drama. That was there first. Their wheelchair number. Their show stopping ballad that Mercedes was going to rock hard. Heck, even some of their lesser songs were stolen by the deaf school. And yeah, it was rather moving to see them performing. But not when it was their song.

So there was that.

And the inevitable explosion of Babygate drama. That really came to a head when Finn had showed up in the green room about…oh…thirty minutes before the performance. But he brought sheet music and confidence. Which was something they were severely lacking. Except for Rachel. She never lacked anything but a filter.

Well…and tact. She usually lacked that most of all.

Mike and Matt and the two Cheerios were called out to choreograph their last minute dances. Not a problem. The four of them fell into a quick routine, the natural dancers in Mike and Brittany taking the lead. The two worked out a pattern, simple but effective. It would look rusty though. Thirty minutes was hardly enough for them to teach themselves.

"That works well," Matt said with a grin, finishing running through the quick moves with Santana. She gave a low noise of approval and looked at the two dancers with actual training.

"Think they'll be able to handle it?" Mike asked, a frown on his face. Brittany sighed.

"Oh Mike, they'll be dancing with their feet," she replied, an exasperated look on her face. The boys just stared at her while Santana reached out to pull the blonde girl into a hug.

"Thank god for those legs and double joints," she murmured, stroking the other girl's back. Mike smirked and Matt shook his head. Women were odd.

Brittany's adorable nature did little to quell Mike's fears however. This was Glee, not football. It meant more. And they stood a chance in this. That was why he ducked out of the chaos of wardrobe and last minute rehearsals to clear his mind. Chaos was never good for tempo. The two became confused, one became the other, and suddenly you were drifting without any steps to guide you.

Mike hated that.

So that meant doing a few easy stretches in the hall, humming to himself and focusing on the events ahead. Rough footwork that he was responsible for and music that was haphazard and rushed. He sighed and switched legs, stretching out the taught muscles. Worry flashed across his face.

"What if we aren't ready?" he murmured, stretching out and grabbing his toes.

"We are ready," Kurt replied. Mike literally jumped. How had he missed the sound of those expensive shoes clicking on the floor? He sighed and looked up at the other boy. Kurt was there in their costume: black slacks and a red tie never looked so good. Though that white beanie…that had been adorable.

"You sound so confident," the dancer murmured, looking up, a small smile on his face. Kurt nodded, looking rather smug as he leaned against the wall. "You look it too." The singer laughed lightly, a faint blush crossing his cheeks.

"You should be confident you know," came the reply. Mike laughed and shrugged one shoulder with no comment. He leaned back and looked up at the other boy. The petite singer frowned and leaned forward, coming eye level with the dancer. He shook his head. "We move because of you."

That left him speechless.

He watched the other boy, surprise evident in his face. Because of him? Mike felt his face heat as a blush crossed his cheeks. He gapped at Kurt, his eyes wide and all manner of foolish thoughts bouncing about in his head. This boy always knew exactly what it took to make him loose his footing.

He never managed to reply however. Kurt was called away by Santana, anxious for the boy to lend his skills to her hair. He rolled his eyes and sauntered off. And Mike watched him the entire way. He shook his head slightly and stood slowly.

"Dude…you really are in deep huh…" Matt murmured. Mike stiffened and looked over his shoulder. But his best friend shook his head. "Later. Right now, we got a competition to win." Matt grinned and slapped his back, moving towards the group of classmates and other Glee members. Mike squared his shoulders.

Show time.

Show-stopping time actually. Rachel, for all her faults, busted out a fantastic solo ballad, roaring through the crowd and giving them an excellent entrance. And their songs had been high energy and fun, bringing the crowd to their feet, dancing in the aisles. Not bad for songs they had worked up not thirty minutes before. They walked off the stage in exhilarated energy and ready for anything.

What they got was an hour of anxious waiting.

Mike watched as his friends dealt with the tension in different ways. Everyone had their coping methods. There was mindless chatter and pacing and – his personal favorite – Brittany standing on her head and singing to herself with Santana just sitting next to her and looking confused.

He just smiled and slipped away from the chattering women and the posturing and angry Puck and Finn. Now that was a time bomb waiting to happen. And personally, he did not want the fall out to hit him. They were his friends, but self preservation was hard to ignore. He turned the corner and blinked at Kurt standing near the window on his iPhone.

Well…sometimes self-preservation won out. Kurt seemed to be the combo breaker however.

He watched him with amusement, rocking on the balls of his feet and chattering nervously to what he assumed was his Father. He was still twitching, his walls as thin and low as he'd ever seen them. Mike arched an eyebrow and leaned against the corner, watching as he played with his tie and fiddled with his belt. The perfect ice sculpture that was Kurt Hummel was incredibly nervous.

He chuckled at that. A day for all things he supposed.

"I knew I'd find you here," Matt whispered, holding up a can of soda with a grin on his face. Mike flushed, making a quieting motion with his hand and pulling his friend away. He sighed as the other boy laughed quietly. "So you're into Hummel. That explains you ducking out on the trashing."

"That or my annoyance with it in general," Mike grumbled, popping the tab on his can with a slight scowl. His friend held up his hands in surrender, a brilliant grin on his face. "Besides…I'm not _into _Hummel per say…" Even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were a bit of a lie. His friend snorted lightly.

"Dude, I see the way you look at him. That's like textbook into," Matt replied, grinning over at him. His friend shrugged and looked towards the hallway they had just left. "I mean if you're into guys, you coulda told me." Mike stared at him for a second before laughing.

"Not just guys Matt," the dancer replied, a grin on his face. Matt looked confused before it struck him and suddenly, his face was one of surprise. He blinked, scratched his head, and took a sip of his soda.

"Well that makes sense…" he replied. "Not like you could be held to a single point or move right?" He grinned and they both laughed.

And Mike grinned happily. This was why he liked his best friend: Matt understood him. And so when Artie came around the corner and asked if they wanted to go spy on the judges, he found the two friends laughing and dancing as the always were.

_And all the night's magic seems to whisper and hush,_

_And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush._

Sectionals victory high was a level of euphoria that was something new. McKinley was hardly the kind of school that brought down trophies on a regular basis. And now that he had one that was nearly as tall as his hip.

Not a bad thing at all.

And the ecstatic nature of New Directions was something incredible. They had jumped and hooted and hollered and danced around after their victory. He even got to hug and spin an energetic Kurt about before Brittany and Santana were practically tackling him to the ground, showering him with kisses on his cheek and making him blush brightly.

And he watched Kurt as he was dragged to the ground by the two giggling girls and watched a look of annoyance flash across the Tiny Dancer's face before something rippled through his eyes and he turned back to Mercedes, his happy mask back in place. Mike's heart was already soaring from their win, but that little flash of something gave him hope. Or maybe it was the way Brittany was giggling insanely about her jealously plan.

It really was a tossup at this point.

They bounced and cheered and rolled their way to the bus, the trophy being passed back and forth from one member to another, though Rachel tended to always be within arm's reach of the faux-gold thing. She treated it like it was a totem of power or a key to something. Popularity? Finn? More rights to direct Glee?

Well that was a terrifying thought…

Mike hummed as he stretched out in a seat on the bus, his legs dangling into the isle. He was a few seats away from the group, who were clustered around Artie in the back. It wasn't that he was feeling anti-social. Far from it. He loved being with the other group members. But sometimes, he could understand the dance better if he was away from it. It was interesting, seeing them interact. He leaned back in the seat, drooping down below the window and yawned.

"Don't tell me you're tired Chang," Kurt murmured, peering down at him from the seat behind him. Mike blinked slowly, looking up at him with an arched brow. He was sure that seat had been empty moments before.

"Did you make three show stopping dance routines then perform them today?" he replied with a half grin. The other boy sniffed lightly and a trademark flash of Hummel Haughty sparkled in his eyes.

"Of course not. I just danced those same routines after giving you the moral support you needed to make sure you were the best," he replied, a smirk settling across his lips. Mike laughed softly, shaking his head.

"Well that's true," the dancer replied, sitting up and staring at Kurt. That white beanie was back. And he was looking smug yet entertained, rolling a tube of something between his fingers. Mike grinned, picking up the faint smell of strawberries: gloss. "But don't I deserve a little rest?" He grinned up at the other boy who only rolled his eyes.

"How can you rest? The rest of us are riding that endorphin high straight back to Lima," Kurt asked incredulously, resting his cheek on the back of the seat. Mike silently cursed everything that was holy and calm. Tiny Dancer really was too cute.

"I've just…got some stuff on my mind," he murmured, doing his best to avoid looking to conspicuous. But he knew his work there was faulty when the other boy simply arched an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes. Mike gulped. That was the Hummel Mission face.

"What on Earth could keep you occupied on a night of celebration?" he snapped back, pointing accusingly at him. "Unless of course you're thinking of ways of celebrating with someone. Then I would rather not hear those details…" Mike watched as that little something flashed through Kurt's eyes. And he couldn't help but break out into a huge grin.

It was jealousy. He had seen it often enough around school, specifically in Rachel's eyes when she saw Quinn and Finn. And in his the eye's of his youngest sister when she fought for attention. Jealousy was never the same note, not for everyone. So where was Kurt's note? It was a risk…

"I was thinking of who I would like to celebrate with…" he murmured, his silly grin slipping easily into place, "and how I'd invite them out for dinner." Kurt huffed.

"Well why don't you just ask them?" he replied, his eyes flashing again, the inflection he placed on the last word making it seem like he knew exactly who Mike was talking about. The dancer chuckled.

"Well I assumed you and Mercedes already had plans," he said calmly, the nonchalant nature of his voice hiding just how nervous he was. Kurt looked at him silently, his eyes wide and his eyebrows nearly touching the edge of the hat he wore. Mike twitched.

"Oh…well if you want to ask her, we don't have plans," the singer said slowly, confusion still evident on his face. "Though I'm surprised you're not asking Brittany." The flash in his eyes was still there, despite the off balance way he looked. Mike silently wished he could see him move to know for certain. He was stepping blind, and the tension was there, but so was the excitement of the possible yes.

"Good to know you're free," the dancer murmured, leaning his cheek on the seat and staring at Kurt, meeting him eye to eye. "So feel like celebrating?" He couldn't decide which reaction was best. The faint blush that crossed his cheeks and climbed up to his ears. The look of surprise and the wide eyes that he was slowly dancing into. Or the nod.

Well…that's not true. The nod was by far the best. Because it meant yes.

_And I know that the time is just right,_

_And straight into my arms you will run._

_And when you come, my heart will be waiting,_

_To make sure that you're never alone._

Mike leaned against his car, watching the last of his fellow teammates leave the parking lot. There was no fanfare waiting. No group of people there to congratulate them as they got off the bus. There were a few parents – Rachel and Artie's dads, Brittany's mom with cookies, and Kurt's father – but no friends. He frowned. It really was unfair how things that were actually good, actually worthwhile were shunned in this town.

He blinked as a throat cleared next to him. He blinked and grinned at the nervous and fidgeting Kurt that was standing near the hood of his car, a blush on his cheeks just visible in the nearly gone sunlight. Yes…the worthwhile things took the longest to find in Lima.

"Ready to go? I'm famished!" Mike said happily, moving towards the other boy. Kurt held up a hand.

"Before we go anywhere…I…" he started, trailing off, his confidence quickly sliding. Mike watched quietly as the singer dropped his gaze to his shoes. He was completely off tempo. The dancer frowned and touched his shoulder gently.

"I asked you out Kurt," Mike murmured. "Not just as a friend." He grinned when the boy flushed darker, but lifted his chin to catch his eyes; a fleeting smile crossing those perfectly glossed lips. "So get in the car. I'm hungry." Kurt just laughed, swatting lightly at his hand and moving towards the door.

"Just be careful Chang," he said quietly, looking over the car at the other boy. "I'm not an easy partner to keep up with when the dance gets tough." Mike just grinned.

"And I'm hard to lose when I'm dancing strong Kurt," he replied, ducking inside and starting the engine. "Now how about Chinese? I know this great place…" And as he rattled on, quickly sidestepping the sarcastic quip Kurt had thrown his way, and pulled out of the parking lot, he caught the small smile of the other boy and his heart took a leap.

And suddenly every step was new and fledgling. But this time, he had someone to take it with.


	5. Let's Face the Music and Dance

_My but it has been some time! To my readers, if there are any left, I am so sorry it took so long to get this out. But here it is! The next part. There are a few more to come, and hopefully, I have the motivation back to keep it going! Thank you again._

_The song this time: **Let's Face the Music and**** Dance,**__written by Irving Berlin and made famous by the incomparable Fred Astaire and Steve Martin. Enjoy!_

_~Shadow_

* * *

_There may be trouble ahead__  
__But while there's moonlight and music__  
__And love and romance__  
__Let's face the music and dance__  
_

Noodles and conversation and light looks of trepidation and embarrassment clouded the mind. Or maybe that was the unguarded smiles. And the tentative hope in Kurt's eyes. Or a combination there of. Regardless, Mike was fuzzy as they were shooed from the restaurant, a fond yet exasperated smile on the face of the battleaxe matriarch.

He blinked at the light and crisp air and shook his head.

"First time I've ever been kicked outta there," he murmured with a grin. Kurt just laughed, unguarded on the empty sidewalk. And Mike watched.

He had learned more about his companion dancer that night than he had in their entire history together. It wasn't entirely surprising that there would be some détente. There were still miles of walls and shields and masks, but Mike had been granted a look past them. If only just a little.

He learned of Kurt's family, his Father and Mother and the tragic circumstances surrounding that ordeal. He involuntarily shuddered lightly. It sat along with the pure anger he had felt for the boy. And the joy. And the sorrow, the depression, the defiant strength.

Kurt did nothing halfway, not even emotions.

"You're spacing," his companion murmured, nudging him with his shoulder in an extreme display of hetero-normative behavior that shocked Mike more than the voice. He blinked.

"Sorry," he said automatically, turning and grinning at the other dancer. "Just mulling over the night. Lot to process yeah?" His smile was disarming – or so he hoped – but his eyes were watching Kurt carefully. He wanted to see if it caused any movement.

And he was glad he did.

His comment made the other boy drop tempo, missing a step and scuffing the bottom of a pristine, and probably exceedingly expensive, shoe. His eyes widened slightly, a flash of something running through those light eyes. Kurt stammered lightly. And Mike stopped, turned to face him and take his hand gently.

"Hey hey, chill Tiny Dancer," he murmured eyes softening. "Don't think for a minute I'm regretting anything. I can see the gears working far too fast." He grinned and poked lightly between Kurt's eyes, making the other boy squeak ever so slightly and cross his eyes in a pout. "Just gave me a lot to think about tonight. Never knew so much Hummel Trivia." His grin faltered slightly at the look Kurt was giving him.

"Tiny Dancer huh?" the other boy replied after a while, an eyebrow arched imperiously and a ghost of a smile on his lips. Mike just grinned and blushed, turning to keep walking as he launched into his description of how that had come about.

He never dropped hands.

_Before the fiddlers have fled__  
__Before they ask us to pay the bill__  
__And while we still__  
__Have the chance__  
__Let's face the music and dance_

Friday night finished there for the dancers, and with a First Date high that left Mike elated. He practically bounded into his home that night, a phone number and a promise of a call tomorrow settled comfortably in his thoughts. His parents just watched with amusement as he spun in the kitchen, fingers dialing Brittany. He wanted to share, though somehow, he was sure that she already knew.

He settled into the night, aerobics and calisthenics bring his body up and his elation down, letting him think and reflect. The weekend would be safe. Insulating, isolating and controlled. He frowned, lapsing into his chest routine. That was where it ended however. That security was dissipated by school. Challenged by the idea of normality. He scoffed lightly, moving on to his abdominals.

Kurt was used to the ridicule. Mike had run away from that same idea. This was problematic.

He frowned, pausing in his actions to let the reality of his new found affection sink in completely. He was already bordering on the dangerous side of jock wrath. The hockey team had been looking a little more…primal recently. He'd never been slushied. It was something he'd seen, sure. Something he'd done? Never. He sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring off at his wall. He licked his lips lightly, eyes narrowing in thought. This was what he had avoided.

Dating a diva meant leaving the shadows. It meant being center stage, in the limelight. And taking all that came with it. The good and the bad, the elation and the heart break. Suddenly, that happy dance was faltering drastically, teetering with uncertainty. He felt like someone on new legs, just learning how to take the complex steps that this dance in high school required. It was scary. And his hesitance, his falling off of that high, was what scared him more than the other jocks.

"Crap," he muttered to the empty room.

_Soon_

_We'll be without the moon_

_Humming a different tune_

_And then_

It was a long night. Mike stumbled downstairs late Saturday morning. He had missed his usual run. And the usual epic breakfast his Father cooked on days when everyone was home. He rubbed at his eyes, all sense of dance missing from his movements. And it was almost as if his family could see. His siblings were away, his parents were quiet, and even Brittany was absent.

It made the dancer uneasy. He needed someone to talk to.

A frown crossed his face. It was unusual for Mike to frown on a Saturday morning. Saturdays were good. French Toast and runs and playing with his siblings and Brittany and laughing with his Dad and Mom. But now, he was brooding in the kitchen, sitting under this feeling of gloom and confusion. And no syrupy goodness. He frowned again.

Cold cereal and brooding. Yes. Mike Chang was feeling very off tempo.

He blinked as his phone vibrated on the table, the sound of Elton John's voice rising as the ringtone. He let a small smile cross his lips. Kurt. He answered quickly, trying to keep the trepidation form his voice. But his greeting was swallowed up but the rushed and upset sounds coming from the other side.

It was a blur really. Shopping at the poor excuse for a mall – Kurt's words – little blissful smiles and happy conversation in which he figured prominently. Much to the apparent delight of Mercedes and Tina. And then, in the food court, little rain clouds appeared.

Or rather big ones. In the form of Karofsky. And Rick Nelson. And Azimio Adams.

Mike gulped, asking what had happened.

They'd gone and taunted and picked, poking at his smile, at the sense of pride and progress. They'd seen him happy, enjoying himself, and they'd stepped on it. They grind it into the ground. Loudly. In public. And only the girls had defended him. People had watched, stared, laughed. Openly at this handsome, brave, amazing boy being torn apart in a public. And Kurt had yelled back saying –

"Wait, what did you say?" Mike interrupted, his eyes wide. He leaned forward in his seat as if the other man could see him.

"I told them that I had a boyfriend. A jock boyfriend," the voice through the phone said meekly. "I know that we had not agreed to such a label or if you were even interested. But I was just so mad. And I-"

"Did you give them my name?" he interrupted again, his voice tight. There was a cluck of a tongue. And the voice came back, also tight and with a touch of heat.

"No. I did not. But _only_ because I had not talked to you before," came the voice. The voice huffed. "Is that a problem Mike? Because it did not seem like it last night." He paused. And it was the pause that let the voice continue, gaining strength. "For someone who talked so openly in New Directions, who held my hand in town and at dinner, you sound so shocked and strained at the idea of being associated with me as anything more than a passing acquaintance." There was a cluck of a tongue and a frustrated sigh. "I suppose I…expected better. No. I did expect better. From you." The voice was hurt. And before he could respond, the voice started again. "Figure it out Chang." And then a click. And silence.

And Mike stared. He had just stepped into the middle of this mess. He'd twisted his ankle in a waltz, sending his part off on his own as he stumbled, failing in his role, his only stride. His head hit the table before him and he groaned loudly. It was like he was new in school again. And everything was big and scary and all he wanted were the shadows. Except that wasn't true.

He wanted Kurt.

_There may be teardrops to shed_

_So While there's moonlight and music_

_And love and romance_

_Let's face the music and dance._

He could feel their eyes. Worried. And confused. And…well…intense. They were his parents after all. He could practically hear the argument raging in their head. Who would come over? Who would ask what was wrong? Who would field the question of what changed, what happened?

Mike screwed his eyes closed and stood, suddenly no longer hungry.

He padded to his room, flopped on his bed, and stared at his computer. Random pictures of his friends filtered across. Brittany showing off double jointed awesomeness. Tina and Artie before the split. Tina and him sharing a secret passion for Korean pop. Quinn looking beyond matronly and in charge. Even while glaring daggers at Rachel. And Finn and Puck going from friends to enemies. Santana always aloof. And Kurt.

He felt his breath hitch. Kurt. Tiny Dancer. The single strongest person he knew. And he'd managed to, with a single absence of comment, hurt that man. Mike groaned and turned away, throwing his pillow at the wall.

"You do realize that only helps in movies," his mother murmured, stepping calmly into the room, a soft chuckle in her voice. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, tilting her head. Mike swallowed, rolling over and looking up at his mother. He wished he was more like her. More analytical, more armored, more defiant of convention. She sat on the edge of his bed, arching an eyebrow in expectation. Mike swallowed. He'd never been…explicit with his parents about this. He worried. But if they let him dance…perhaps…

"So…do you remember Kurt Hummel?" Mike began, getting only a nod in reply from his mother. "Well…you know he's openly gay, right?" Another nod. "He's…gotten a lot of flak for it. Like…when we moved here? And I got made fun of for dancing?" Another nod, a flash of anger in her eyes. "Well…I…um…I really like him. A lot. And I took him out after our Sectionals win and…" he trailed off. Could he really voice this? He'd said he liked a boy and his mother had barely batted an eye.

"I'm scared Mom," the dancer whispered, pulling his knees to his chest. He waited, for a reaction, for condemnation, for something. Finally his mother made a sound. It was the sound that she made whenever someone in the house made a logical leap that missed the mark. He winced, looking up at her through the fringe of his hair.

"Well…you've never actually conformed to anything you know," she began, shooting him a look of affection. "You never let anyone stop you…until we came to this terrifying town." She made a face, rolling her eyes and Mike snickered. It was a well known fact that she desperately missed Chicago. "I suppose…what hurts is seeing you so worried…so concerned with what these people think." She reached out, brushing back some of his hair and smiled softly. "Leap, Michael. And don't look back. Because these people will always be here. And you have so far to go." She leaned forward, kissing his cheek and standing, looking at him with a wry arched eyebrow.

"Now go make up with this boy so I don't have to pay for a makeover. I hear he's rather fantastic at them. I expect him at dinner next Friday."

Mike just grinned. That was what his Mom did. Put everything in perspective. He reached for his phone, texting Kurt, asking to meet him Monday morning before school. The reply he got was terse, simply a _fine. _It gave him Sunday to plan and plot. Perfect.

He planned it out, begging his Father for an advance on his allowance, writing an I.O.U for extra chores. He then practically raced to Columbus, dashing into a store he knew Kurt would appreciate, Hermes. It was one of his Mom's favorites. And so he talked to the sales associate, being lead to a collection of scarves. His eyes landed on one, a red and blue blending into a soft, comfortable violet. Opposites in balance, in blended splendor. He grinned, laying down nearly a month's worth of yard work and babysitting.

Now, he was ready for Monday. Mostly.

He just had to figure out what to say.


End file.
